


Indian Summer

by rufflefeather



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2k, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufflefeather/pseuds/rufflefeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘I think about you too.’</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: Product of my twisted mind, all events fictional, don't own anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indian Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for eloquent_toast 's Merlin Wankfest 2011 which is just about the best place to hang out. I have no excuse for this, only that a dirty mind is a joy for life. I have no idea if they wrapped cheese in oiled cloths, how they oiled those cloths and what they oiled them with but there is oil and boys and wanking SO WHO CARES!

Arthur will remember this as the hottest after summer of his youth. October already rolled past into November and still the sun burnt with an August strength. So maybe it is the curious indulgence that comes with too many sultry days, or maybe it is the way Merlin would lick the glistening sweat from his lips, the way the wetness would cause the hair to curl around his ears that gave Arthur’s dreams in day and night a feverish sensitivity of forbidden want and need. Or maybe it is just this way with teenage boys, their bodies thrumming with an always present demand no matter what the weather is like.

He finds Merlin behind the kitchens, bent over a task with set determination of one who knows he has no choice but get the work done. Arthur watches him, legs bony and crossed beneath him, fringe still sticking to his forehead even though he is hidden in the shade. Merlin glances up, notices Arthur leaning against the wall but doesn’t acknowledge him in any verbal way. The oppressing cling of heat is too much to do anything but concentrate on his work. Arthur shifts, restless and more than a little annoyed.

‘What are you doing?’ he demands eventually, suppressing the urge to swipe at his own fringe with a sweaty palm, knowing it won’t improve matters in the slightest. Instead he uncrosses his arms, hoping to catch a non-existing cooling breeze. He is tall now, features almost grown in to the fullness of his mouth, almost looking like the man he will once be.

Merlin puffs out a breath, flipping up a sticky strand of hair. ‘Oiling cheese cloths,’ he tells Arthur gruffly, irritated that he has to work and Arthur, does not. ‘Don’t you have something more interesting to do than stand there?’

‘No,’ Arthur tells him, following Merlin’s fingers as they dip into the oil again. ‘Too hot to hunt, too hot to train, too hot to lie down and do nothing.’

‘Poor you,’ Merlin mumbles, his eyebrows pulling together in a frown, as his slicked hands smooth over a circular cloth, up, down, around, turn it over, repeat.

The truth is, Arthur had been lying on his bed, because it is cooler in there that outside, when the strange heat had built in his belly. It is a normal occurrence now, it doesn’t make him nervous anymore like it used to. He had closed his eyes and turned over, pressing his need into the mattress but the release hadn’t come. One of his older friends had once asked him what girl he thought of, when he - you know, did that thing. Arthur had looked at him and had muttered something about no one in particular. The boy had grinned and punched his shoulder lightly before telling him it was all right.

‘Merlin?’ Arthur asks advancing a little and wringing his hands behind his back as he watches him roll one of the cloths into a tight coil before dipping his hands into the oil again.

‘Mmm.’ Merlin doesn’t bother looking up from his work and doesn’t see how Arthur’s eyes are slightly too wide, too intent on the way he massages the oil into his palms and fingers before spreading them over a new cloth. Arthur steps a little closer still, and sinks down on his knees.

‘Do you ever-,’ Arthur begins, and he feels his cheek redden. ‘Do you ever think about me?’

Merlin frowns and finally looks up to see his Prince bite the inside of his lip. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks and Arthur sees the apple of his throat bob up and down, the tendons of his neck straining.

‘I mean,’ Arthur whispers. ‘At night, when you are alone do you ever- do you ever think things. About me.’

‘I-,’ Merlin stares, his mouth a little slack in horror, his cheeks and ears burning as if Arthur just discovered one of his darkest secrets. ‘I’m sorry,’ Merlin breathes. Arthur wants to look away because he can feel the shame stinging, but he is unable to. Merlin’s eyes are wide and blue, there is a trickle of sweat that pearls its way down his temple and all Arthur can think of is how it might taste on his tongue.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘I think about you too.’ He feels how his eyelids become heavy, when Merlin’s gaze flickers toward the bulge in Arthur’s breeches and back up again. His hands have stilled, there is oil dripping from his fingers. A sudden intensity crosses his features and a heat that has nothing to do with the sun spreads in Arthur’s chest.

‘Take it out,’ Merlin orders him, voice low and hoarse.

He wants to say no, he wants to get up and leave and never think about this again but Merlin looks down, his tongue briefly pressing against the droplet of sweat on his top lip and Arthur realizes his hand is already moving. His fingers feel clumsy and stiff as he fumbles with the closing of his trousers but he can’t look away, he can’t look down from Merlin’s face to see what his fingers are doing wrong.

At last he closes his fist around himself and pulls, a deep sigh pressing through his open mouth and he sinks back on his heels. He pumps his sweat slicked palm up and down, the muscles in his thighs and buttocks clenching hard. Merlin’s eyes widen, his mouth is stuck in the shape of a small o and he can’t seem to make up his mind where to look first. At Arthur’s flushed face or at the pink, moist head that appears and vanishes with increasing speed in Arthur’s hand.

‘Arthur,’ Merlin moans when Arthur gives a violent shiver of anticipation and pleasure. ‘Can I touch? Please Arthur, I want to touch.’ The thought is dangerous and scary and exhilarating all at once and Arthur focusses on Merlin’s mouth, imagining what it would feel like and,

‘Yes. Merlin, yes.’ His breath stutters and his eyes almost close so it is a shock when Merlin’s oiled palm clasps over his own hand.

‘Move,’ Merlin hisses hotly. Arthur slides his fingers down the shaft a little, not letting go but enough to make room for Merlin’s hand. It isn’t his mouth, Arthur thinks, but the oil is warmed through the heat of the day or the friction of Merlin’s palms and he knows it can’t feel all that different. ‘Oh,’ Merlin breathes, when Arthur twitches in his hand and he tightens his fist. Arthur can barely suppress the groan in his throat and he rocks back on his heels, watching Merlin kneeled before him. ‘Let me Arthur,’ Merlin whispers and he is glad to allow his hand to fall away, because this, this is more than he ever thought it could be. The pressure that builds beneath his navel is strong and unfamiliar, nothing like what he is used to in the darkness and solitude of his own chambers.

Merlin fits both his palms around Arthur, fingers entangling around the shaft as he strokes in slow, long movements. The oil smells slightly sweet and feels just as delicious.

‘I think about this Arthur,’ Merlin whispers and Arthur jolts, because Merlin’s voice is right beside his ear. He hadn’t realizes his head had dropped to Merlin’s shoulder. ‘I think about this all the time. When I am alone, when I touch myself I think about it being you. I want it to be you.’

‘Me too,’ Arthur mumbles into his neck, his lips brushing against Merlin’s skin. He tastes of sweat and soap and something Merlin smells of but that he can’t name.

‘I think about my hands on you,’ Merlin continues in a shaky voice. ‘I think about them, and wonder what noises you would make when they are on you.’ Arthur’s thighs are starting to tremble, he can feel the pressure mounting, he can feel it starting to clench around his groin and the weight of it is so much, it is so much he doesn’t think he can contain it. ‘I think about my hands doing this,’ Merlin breathes into his ear, right before he curls his fingers around Arthur’s sack, squeezing gently. The noise coming out of Arthur’s throat is filthy and stifled by the skin of Merlin’s shoulder.

‘Merlin,’ he whimpers. ‘Merlin I’m going to-, it’s going to-‘ he gasps, his hips start to rock into Merlin’s hand, still stroking, gripping, tight, loose, tight, loose, tight, tight. ‘Merlin!’ He wants to pull away, shame suddenly taking over but Merlin quickly pulls a hand away and places it on the small of Arthur’s back keeping him in place.

‘I want it,’ he whispers. ‘I want it Arthur.’ When Arthur still a little, he puts his hand back and works both up and down twice.

‘Merlin,’ Arthur whines.

‘Yes. Please Arthur, give in. Give in to me, I’ve got you.’ Merlin slides a hand down further when he feels Arthur beginning to shudder around him, feels Arthur’s hands come up and clasp his shoulders, when he feels Arthur’s teeth on his neck. Arthur cries out when Merlin slides a finger beneath his sack and against his opening, feels the pressure explode through him, riding the wave with his hips rocking against Merlin’s pumping hand as he spurts his seed into Merlin’s palms.

Merlin wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist as he waits for him to come down, his thumb tracing small patterns into the fabric of his shirt. Arthur can hear him murmuring against his neck but doesn’t understand what he is saying. Doesn’t care, really. He waits for his knees to stop trembling and for his breathing to slow down again before he sits up slowly. For a moment he is afraid to look at Merlin, as if everything is suddenly going to be different. As if Merlin is going to be different.

But Merlin looks flushed and a little embarrassed and his hair is standing up on end. He gives Arthur a small smile and a glance from beneath his eyelashes before he reaches out and grabs a dry cloth to wipe his hands. After a moment hesitation he hands it to Arthur, who quickly cleans himself up before doing up his trousers, cheeks still red.

‘You know what else I think about?’ Merlin asks him softly, his hands twisted into a knot in his lap.

‘No,’ Arthur says.

‘About kissing you.’

‘Oh.’ Arthur feels a pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Do you-, would you like me to kiss you Merlin?’

‘Yes, Arthur. I think I would like that very much.’

 

[ Ozark Henry - Indian Summer ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40gmV9AJFnU) . 

**Author's Note:**

> [Here at LJ.](http://rufflefeather.livejournal.com/5350.html#cutid1)


End file.
